“You fucking abducted us! Remember? Took us from everything we knew, everything I had! And you have the nerve to complain about a few lies? Oh, I’m sorry I lied to you, Mr. Abductor-Alien-Man, please don’t lock me in the cell again... Please, spare me your righteous indignation. It’s not a good look.”
To my astonishment, his gaze falters, his expression tightening with what appears to be doubt. I almost stumble backward as he suddenly releases his grip. There are red marks where he touched me, but I hardly notice; my adrenaline is still pumping through my veins, washing away all concerns in a torrent of rage. I pause, watching him hesitate, his eyes distant, and I feel a sudden surge of hope—can I salvage this? Is there a chance?
“Let’s cut the bullshit. No more lies,” I say, placing my hands against his hot, immense chest, drawing closer, pressing my softness against his hardness. He doesn’t stop me. A thrill of elation bubbles up inside me—my victory drawing near.
“This is what you really want from me, isn’t it?” I purr, moving against his colossal heat, my hands tracing his rippling muscles, sliding down toward his alluring cock, which brushes against my arm with its hefty weight. “It’s okay... I want it too.”
My body is on fire, the heady mix of hatred, fear, and desire carrying me away on an intoxicating high I’ve never experienced before. I love it; it’s so exciting! I peer up at the giant, my eyesheavy with need, gauging his reaction as my hand inches ever so slowly toward his enormous length. A breathy laugh escapes me; I can’t help it—I’m almost there.
“Stop,” Dracoth commands. The word slices through my hazy desire like a blade. His molten gaze snaps to mine, anger twisting his mouth and narrowing his eyes. But there’s something else... hidden deep—a flicker of doubt. Perhaps even fear? It’s so shocking I recoil. It looks wrong, like frozen fire, or fashionable cheap clothes—a thing that shouldn’t exist.
“I must go,” he declares, abruptly marching past me, leaving me bewildered.
What the hell just happened? I had him! Literally, in the palm of my hands.I shake my head, racking my brain for understanding. Is this how theClown-dathiansbehave when it comes to sex? I see Dracoth disappear into the mist, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears, matching the pounding of my heart.
Was it something I said? Did I move too quickly, or too slowly?
Then, like a lightning bolt, the realization hits. Of course... It all makes sense now. I should have seen it sooner. A manic, bitter laugh shakes through me.
Dracoth’s a virgin.
Chapter 19
Dracoth
Hostile negotiations
Istandinthewarroom, waiting, seething. That one such as I must wait to speak to such weak, defeated enemies boils my blood. They should already be strung up on my belt, joining their pathetic brethren in bone. The belt jangles almost in agreement as I pace across the room. Let them see the Hemo-Tok; let them cower before it, a reminder of what happens if they dare to cross me—even for an instant.
Perhaps I should have their heads shaved as a mercy—a mercy that still shames me. I brush a hand over my short crimson hair, and rage twists my mouth. The hair of an untested youth, not one who’s bathed in the blood of countless enemies! It sickens me. My father’s hair was said to reach nearly to the ground,despite his immense height—the hair of an undefeated warlord. Mine will be the same one day. It can’t grow fast enough.
The large table dominates the center of the room—a console, in truth, with chairs neatly arranged on either side. In a real war, this room would be a hive of activity. Maps and schematics would be covered with battle plans and the shifting positions of warriors and enemies, potential attacks glowing in blue, cascading across the screens like a deadly dance. Now, it shows nothing. There is no grand war, just pathetic junkers and human madness.
A day has passed since the strange encounter with Princesa in the shower. The memory flashes through my mind, vivid and visceral, demanding an answer that continues to elude me. It’s clear she seeks to manipulate me, despite her obvious fear. Lies flow from her as freely as the blood of my enemies. And yet when challenged, she expresses not shame, but anger? She should’ve bowed her head in dishonor, so marred in falsehoods. But instead stood almost proud, shrouded in her disgrace like a regal cloak... drawing closer.
The memory of it stokes my molten blood—her pale nakedness, the submissive look in her eyes, how her plump softness felt against my body—so close to my male-hood. Why should I care if the female lies? I need only one of them to complete the Mortakin-Tok, not an honorable, honest Elder. No, it wasn’t her lies that stayed my hand. The truth lurks deeper, in the darkness of my soul, hidden and suppressed.
Fear...
The thought sickens me. I could roar in frustration. The word itself is a curse to my very being. I banish the image from my mind, like a vipertail lurking in the shadows, its stinging tail buried deep in my subconscious.
Princesa and Sandra... they’ve seen too much of me. Like Krogoth. If only I could remove them, as I’ll remove him. Then my honor would be restored, my vengeance satiated.
The swoosh of the doors behind me signals Ignixis entering the war room, drawing me from my troubling thoughts to his troubling presence. We haven’t spoken since I repaid him for his... tender care. He greets me with an irksome smile, his yellow fangs gleaming in the purple light, framed by the blackness of his face and robes.
“Hail, young Dracoth,” he says, his tone annoyingly jovial.
No hatred, no sneering, not even the tiresome title of ‘boy’?His pleasant demeanor is even more grating.
“Did you find the healing pod to your liking?” I remind him, studying his face, hoping to see some hint of displeasure in the old gas-cloud.
“Oh, yes!” His face lights up, if such a visage spawned from the netherworld could ever hold light. He rolls his shoulder with a relieved sigh. “I must thank you, really,” his green glowing eyes snap to mine. “You see, one of the sacred exemptions is having technology forced upon you. And you wereveryforceful. I think we can both agree.”
A flicker of disappointment crosses my face, betraying my thoughts.
“How strange... I thought this news would please you,” the old gas-cloud says, cackling like a half-mad victim of space madness.
I frown, contemplating if it’s worth venting the tiresome fool out of the airlock. His laughter halts with a jarring abruptness, his expression twisting into something feral. “The females... tell me, how do your endeavors fare?” He studies me, a twinge of loathsome uncertainty rippling through me.
